


Silence

by RandomGuygoesviral



Category: Epithet Erased (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, Death, Fear, Fear of Death, Found Family, Heavy Angst, Murder, Panic Attacks, Rated For Violence, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22812403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomGuygoesviral/pseuds/RandomGuygoesviral
Summary: He had truly never meant to hurt anyone. That didn't stop someone from believing that he did. Sylvie had reached the end of his road.
Comments: 16
Kudos: 47





	Silence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [perrythedeer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perrythedeer/gifts).



> I was possessed to write this in the middle of my english class and have been working on it every moment I've been able since then (but I've been busy today). SO. Graphic content warning. It references a death several times and also someone is fucking murdered.

Sylvester Ashling is not a murderer. He fights to keep himself, or others, safe. Defense, he fights to defend. Never,  _ ever _ to hurt. That wasn’t something he’d do. As a therapist, his intention in life was  _ never _ to hurt, only to help… to protect. It was all he wanted.  _ That was all he wanted! _

He’d made a mistake, he’d never meant for something to go so wrong! He wasn’t a murderer, he acted to immobilize! Please- he’d been provoked! Never would he possibly… he’d never meant for this. It was to make someone stop. That was all it had ever been for! Nightmare Fuel wasn’t meant to hurt, it was only meant to scare!

Sylvie curled into the blanket on his form. He was unfocused, scared. Sleep wouldn’t come to him, not now. Fear overwhelmed him, nightmares plagued his mind. Any attempt would be useless. It wasn’t new for him to struggle so relentlessly with sleep, but the reason itself  _ was _ new. 

He was a deadman walking. He knew that. Running from forces much more powerful than himself. People who would not hesitate to kill him. The bandages over his eye were a stark reminder of that fact. It… wasn’t people, he knew that, too. One person. A woman. Someone he’d interacted with in the past. Who he thought he could… at least minorly let his guard down around.

How stupid of him. Nobody got to that point. Not really. One of the only exceptions to that rule was not far from him, in that moment. He could go to him if he wanted to, but he didn’t. The other was safe. Tucked away from the horror that had become the life of Sylvester Ashling. She didn’t know all of the details. It was better that way… she was safe. That was all that mattered.

Letting out a soft sigh, he sat up. The blanket on his body fell to his side, thin and blood stained. He reached up to his eye, feeling a slick sensation on his fingertips. As he drew his hand away, crimson flaked away onto his palm. He’d grown numb to the pain sooner than he’d expected to. That being said, he wasn’t the best judge of physical ailments. No no, he worked with the mind.

There was a squeak, a door opening, and the sound of footsteps. Sylvie felt his breath catch in his throat. His gaze darted to the origin of the sounds. He visibly relaxed upon seeing the man in the doorframe. Still, he couldn’t help the way his heart raced. Everything could be a threat. Anything could go wrong.

“Hey, Shepherd,” came a soft voice,” How’s your eye?”

Sylvie let out a breath, his fists balling,” I think it hurts. Can’t feel it, though.”

The man, tall and pink-haired by the name of Giovanni, sat beside him, pulling Sylvie onto his lap. Normally, he’d fight against it, but he didn’t have the energy. All he did was flatten against Giovanni’s chest softly. It was all he could do. Anything more made his chest tighten. He was acutely aware of the way his shoulders were shaking. He wasn’t sure if it was wrong of him not to care.

“Didn’t sleep?”

A beat. “No.”

“Nightmares?”

“...”

“I’m sorry, kid.”

Sylvie mewled feebly in protest, pressing his head against Giovanni’s chest,” ‘m not a kid.”

“Sure you’re not.”

The two of them sat in silence for some time after that. The sound was almost deafening at moments, remedied by shifting and hearing the rustle of clothing. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling, unfortunately, no. Instead, it was daunting. At least to Sylvie. Every moment could be spent doing something. Running as far as possible. Silence meant fear and by god was he scared.

Sirens sounded in the distance, slowly drawing nearer. Giovanni wrapped around Sylvie protectively as the boy let out a muffled shout. Every sound like that made his heart race, but police sirens especially. Sylvie knew there was an officer with the epithet "Tracker". It would be so easy to find him. 

Another few moments ticked by in silence. Every moment, Sylvie was held tighter. Every moment, Sylvie felt his heart race faster. The sirens didn't fade. They just grew louder and louder and horribly louder. And then stopped. He froze in place, mute horror crossing his expression. Then there was the sound of glass shattering. An electric crackle lit through the room.

This was it for him, Sylvie knew it. There was nowhere to run. He was cornered. Thinking in the only way he could, he shoved himself off of Giovanni and stood. His gaze locked with the older man’s for a moment before he forced himself away.

“Giovanni… run.”

He looked at Sylvie, dumbfounded,” Sylvester, if you think I’m-”

“Giovanni,  _ please _ !” his voice came out shrill, desperate,” Tell Molly that I’m sorry.”

“If you think I’m leaving you to d-”

“Detective King isn’t going to stop until I’m dead, okay? Please!” his voice strained,” You’re a criminal, but you’re not the one she’s after. Giov-... Gio, you have a chance. I don’t. I want you to be okay. That’s my job. I… tell Molly that I’ll miss her, and that I’m sorry.”

Giovanni looked as if he wanted to protest, but at the sound of banging, he made a misty-eyed getaway. It left Sylvie to wait, alone. And so he did. He sat there, staring at a door, in silence. Stiff as a board, waiting… waiting… waiting.

The door was slammed open, almost coming swinging off of it’s hinges. In came a woman whose face he’d come to recognise. Despite the way his breathing hitched and the way that panic flared in his chest, he didn’t move from his position on his bed. They made eye contact and Sylvie found himself sitting straighter, not daring to say a word.

“Giving up now, are we, Ashling?” her tongue was sharp, harsh to his ears.

He sighed,” You’d follow me to the ends of the earth if it meant getting your revenge. I… we both know that. So I’m throwing the towel in. You could do this forever, but I can’t.”

The woman was on him in a moment. He hardly had a moment to react before there was a click. Then… the way his mind was working shifted. There was suddenly an emptiness in the back of it that he couldn’t quite place. Everything felt… more real than it had a moment ago.

Suddenly, his breathing caught. Sylvie could feel his his hands shaking, he gasped out, horror on his expression. His epithet! He knew he had one but! Glancing down at his hands, his worst fears had been proven. The boy had been cuffed. It was all happening again! In his mind, he could feel the strength in his body seeping from him. Everything was happening again- he was losing the epithet he couldn’t even remember having all over again.

Sylvie sobbed, covering his mouth with his hands. Terror froze him in place. This wasn’t okay, it wasn’t okay, he couldn’t breathe! He- he needed his epithet! Please!  _ Please _ ! Don’t take it again! The horrible, empty feeling was too much!

“Th-Thanatophobia!” He cried out.

Percival faltered for a moment.

“Thanatophobia!” Sylvie repeated, tears streaking down his face,” I- that man- Ramsey Murdoch! He- he had Thanatophobia! That’s- it’s the fear of death! He… no one has- no had ever- r-reacted that way before. T-to… I assume my epithet? No one had ever reacted to me using it in that way. No one had had Thanatophobia before. I- oh god- I never,  _ ever _ wanted to kill someone! I promise! I  _ promise _ !”

There was no sympathy in Detective Percival King’s face as she held a sword to Sylvie’s throat. He swallowed harshly, letting out a weak laugh. At least this way, he didn’t have to live with being a killer. Giovanni and Molly would be okay. He’d… all he’d be was another one of those stories. A gifted child, driven to insanity by overwhelming pressures. Just another statistic. 

Percival’s eyes were stormy and electric all in the same motion. It would not be the first time she’d killed. She doubted that it would be the last. Unwavering, she slashed crossways with her swords blade. Crimson spewed, coating her face. There was a sob, a gurgle, and then  _ silence _ . 

**Author's Note:**

> hahaha so. This is a fun thing. Have fun with this. It's a little ooc, I'm sure, but whatever.  
> Comments and feedback are always appreciated! Please let me know what you think!


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